


Mutually Assured Destruction

by StarlightOnInk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Dark, M/M, Nuclear Warfare, Nuclear Weapons, Nuclear Winter, m.a.d.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/StarlightOnInk
Summary: One side strikes, the other retaliates. Such is the nature of nuclear warfare, and the frozen dance of their own ashes across the globe amidst a radiation they helped create.One single push from a hand, any hand- and the world could freeze over.Two hands from two people from two lands with the same mindset of dread and horror and yes, yes, end it now, for glory, for life, for death- and the world did freeze over.





	Mutually Assured Destruction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IridulcentDays (BiverbalBuncombe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiverbalBuncombe/gifts).



**Mutually Assured Destruction**

The hymns have gone silent. The choir’s song of screams wrenched all that was left from the throats of the ghosts of ash. These golden rays were theirs no more to raise their arms to, be impaled by spears of light with smiles turned to the sky. No more. The rivers froze; dancing water seized under the weight of eternal winter, eternal clouds, a frozen world of particles dancing to the melody of decay, disrepair, abominations.

They were wielders of magic, all of them, tapped into a power they did not understand but used as if their lives depended on it. A simple jerk of the hand could illuminate a room and its pallid, jaded inhabitants, the dust moats whirring amidst these founts of greed and villainy. Or one pull of the finger could emit a cacophony, the last sound before a soul leaks from the puncture in the flesh, flowing out with crimson life, soaring up, up, up, away from noise or care or joy or rage. Away from the vessel of existence that let them all warp and affirm, fix and destroy.

One single push from a hand, any hand, and the world could freeze over.

Two hands from two people from two lands with the same mindset of dread and horror and _yes, yes, end it now, for glory, for life, for death_ and the world froze over.

Life is death from the moment it begins. Life is death beneath nuclear winter.

With a single gesture from two hands from two people of two lands, those beacons of strength know only _decay_. The smallest of beings become kings of the dead empire fourth from the sun, pushing on. Doing what those beacons of power never did.

Learn.

Life leeched from their bodies. The end of every citizen who called their land home raked through their bones as they departed the scorched and frozen earth, left Russia, left America, left nuclear winter. Every tear in the fabric of their existence was an agony. And here they stood amidst it all. Power. Will. Strength. It was worth it, surely.

“Shame.” The voice that had spoken for millions of people was a rasp behind Russia’s gas mask. His land was ruined and so was his body.

The figure across from him stared silent, waiting.

“Shame about…me,” Russia concluded finally.

America hunched slightly, meaning to fold his arms and failing with a wince. Such simple motions were exhausting when molten anguish pumped through his veins, his heart. “Yeah…shame you’re still here.”

“Not for long…and that is the pity.” Russia’s gaze dipped to the tainted ground between them, spoiled irredeemably by their irredeemable selves. If only radiation were the only thing coating the ground. If only most of their eyes were not still open to judge them both.

“I never…wanted this,” America panted, slowly doubling over.

A thousand voices screamed within Russia in protest as he took a step toward him. Then another. No longer just his people- every inch of his dead holy land begged for him to be at his end, please, please.

Through the hell they had raised from beneath the earth, Russia walked over to America’s tense figure. The moment his hand landed on his shoulder, something that might have once been strength blossomed between them. If only strength were a concept still.

“I cannot see them anymore.” Russia’s eyes were heavenward.

Shoulders shaking, tears dripping onto his gas mask, America forced his gaze up there as well. “It’s there…it’s still there,” he said in a quavering voice. But fighting, still fighting. Even at the end it was not over. “The moon…it’s there, I know it. We touched it- we touched it!”

Both hands now forced America to face him. Russia’s bloodshot eyes seemed over bright, too colorful for color was life, color was proof that they had not succeeded yet in destroying _every single thing this world had to offer_. Color was proof there was time for redemption for their irredeemable selves.

“We will go there,” Russia said, arms carrying the dead weight of every burned soul suffocating in the cold. “We will go there…and be free.”

“Free.” The word was a breath. A breath. Breath could still exist without air. Panting louder and louder with every inch he moved, America raised his hands, grabbed his mask. Russia mirrored him.

They were bare now. Bare to themselves, bare to let the end flood their lungs, to let the nails of death gouge them from the inside, sweet agony, embrace what was theirs to make.

Fear looked like shattered blue topaz eyes watering behind rectangular spectacles. Fear looked like the unmasked shuddering of a bear of a man. They were fear, the reapers and the bearers.

America’s cracked lips opened. “We’ll finish it the same way we started it…together.”

They drew together.

They tasted of the fire of nuclear winter. Of the mutually assured destruction they watched unfold within them.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Tried something a bit newish for this one…Based on a prompt on tumblr, “We’ll finish it the same way we started it…together" for iridulcentdays. It was an honor to write this for you!
> 
> M.A.D.: Mutually assured destruction. The knowledge that if one side launches a nuclear weapon, the opponent would as well, leaving both sides- and the world- in the ruin of nuclear winter.


End file.
